Remember Me
by Phantom Trekkie
Summary: A battle. A death. A grieving Starfleet captain. A crew who loves him enough to make sure he pulls through. Not slash.
1. Chapter 1

"Chekov, fire everything we've got!" I yelled. I didn't care about the safety of my ship, or my life, at this point; all I cared about was that that ship wasn't harmed. No, it couldn't be fired on. It couldn't be damaged, and it couldn't be destroyed. The President of the Federation was on that ship; and he couldn't be put in harm's way.

But then again, everyone was in harm's way now.

The story's simple; the President was making a much needed visit to Andoria, and the Romulans heard about it. They decided to take action. We were unprepared. The Enterprise was escorting the ship back home to Earth when we received the transmission; the Romulans were invading Federation space. It all had happened so quickly. Time seemed to disappear as I saw the first Romulan fleet enter into view. We had been given one command, and one command only.

_Defend the President at all costs._

Before we knew it, we were right in the middle of a war; Romulans versus the Federation. It wasn't _that_ bad- not nearly as bad as the war Captain Archer had to fight against the Romulans. But things weren't the same; he didn't have a President to protect. I did. We did.

"Captain, there's nothing left to fire!" Sulu responded. It seemed like years had passed since I'd given the command. I stared blankly at the scene before me; half of my Bridge crew was on the floor, unconscious. The view screen was barely working, but I could see ship after Romulan ship firing on starships. I could see the President's ship, being fired on.

"No…nothing…to…fire…?" I asked, not expecting an answer this time. Two seconds of silence passed. Sulu announced the shields were out. Gone. More silence.

"Captain, incoming-" Spock started, but was interrupted by a loud blast on the ship. I watched as his console exploded, showering sparks and green blood. Spock fell out of his chair, and landed on the floor with a loud _thud._ I quickly jumped out of my seat to go take Spock's place- and to check to make sure he was alright.

You see, Spock and I had this special relationship. We'd been friends for more than 15 years, serving together for even longer than that. Spock had helped me out when I needed help. He had been there for me when I needed him. I'm sure I failed on my part, but I at least _tried_ to be there for him when he needed me. When that pointy eared Vulcan got himself into trouble –which wasn't as rare as you may think- I always went after him, to help him out.

I flipped Spock onto his back. The air around me smelled like smoke, fire, blood, and burned flesh. I rapidly scanned Spock, checking all of his major injuries, which were bountiful. The side of his neck was burned heavily. His hands were also scorched; but nothing that Dr. McCoy could repair. He seemed to have escaped without anything too dangerous…

That's when I saw it.

That part of the console plunged into his lower rib cage couldn't be missed. It didn't appear to go all the way through, but it went in several inches. That was enough to kill a human, but Spock was in even more danger than a human would be in this situation.

That piece of console was plunged right where Spock's heart was.

I took out my communicator, hoping that I could reach Bones in time.

"Bones, this is Kirk."

"_What is it, Jim?! I'm a little busy down here."_

"Bones," I said. "Spock's been injured. Badly."

"_Well, Jim…Ugh…Err…"_ He let out an irritated sigh. _"Can you give me a little bit more details?"_

"Sure, sure. His neck's been burned pretty badly, so have his hands. But the worst thing I can find is a piece of his console that's been jammed into his lower rib cage."

"_My God, Jim. I'm on my way."_

Before I had a chance to respond, the signal died. I checked what was left of the console; there weren't any incoming phasers or torpedoes. I ran back to my Captain's chair.

"Sulu, how's the President's ship?" I asked impatiently.

"Sir, the ship has taken heavy damage, but it's still in one piece. The Romulans seem to be retreating." Sulu reported in his low, calm voice.

I let out a sigh of relief, glad that the madness was over; for now. I heard the turbolift doors open and close. Bones must be here. I stood up, and returned to where Spock was laying unconscious.

"Bones…how bad is it?" I asked. The entire Bridge seemed to hold their breath, waiting for the answer.

McCoy shook his head. "The console's stabbed his heart; he's bleeding internally. The burns alone are serious enough to kill. I'll try my best, Jim, but there's really not much I can do."

"Take him to Sick Bay immediately."

"Alright," Bones said quietly. Whether he was just being considerate of me, or if he really felt that much pain towards Spock's condition, I don't know. Whichever reason it is, Bones didn't say a word about the possibility of Spock not making it. The idea seemed impossible; of all the things Spock had lived through, _surely_ he wasn't going to be taken out by a stupid blown-up console.

The hours passed. I had Scotty and his team working on the most needed repair; our warp drive. With that, we could make our way to the nearest starbase, and hope that the Enterprise could be fixed. Uhura had given me the reports; 9 dead, more than 30 seriously wounded.

I was kept busy on the Bridge, signing reports, reporting to Starfleet, checking constantly on the condition of the President. It wasn't until I got a call from Sick Bay that I remember about Spock.

"_Sick Bay to Captain Kirk."_

I froze, half of me wanting to answer, half of me wanting to just ignore the call. I answered it.

"Kirk here. What is it, Bones?"

Silence.

"Bones?"

"_Jim, I think you best get down here."_

"I…ah…I'm a little busy now, Bones."

"_Jim, it's Spock."_

Of course it was Spock. I jumped out of my chair and ran to Sick Bay, feeling guilty that I had waited this long to make it down there. Some friend I was. Some _captain_ I was.

The doors to Sick Bay opened, revealing a stomach-turning scene. All of the beds were full. People were laying and sitting on the floor, patiently waiting for a nurse or doctor to attend them. I scanned the room, searching for Spock. I half expected him to be sitting on a bio-bed, arguing with Dr. McCoy about how illogical it was for him to remain in Sick Bay when he was needed on the Bridge.

Boy, was I wrong.

There Spock was, lying on a bio-bed, almost completely still. His eyes were open. That was a good sign, right? I could see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed; it was irregular.

"He's been waiting for you, Jim. Even though he won't admit it, he can't hold on much longer." Bones half whispered to me. I nodded in understanding, and forced the tears back as I walked over to stand by Spock.

"Spock, can you hear me?"

He slowly rolled his eyes towards my direction. "Yes, Captain. I can hear you." He croaked. "There's something…I need to tell you. It has been…an honor…serving with you."

I couldn't help it. The tears came. I tried to smile, for both of our sakes.

"No, Spock. It has been an honor serving with _you_. You couldn't imagine what my life would be like without you, Spock. I don't want to imagine. I just want to remember…" My voice broke. It felt like my heart was ripping.

Spock's hand lifted ever so slightly, forcing his third and fourth finger to slant away from eachother.

"Jim, I have been, and always will be, your friend."

I sniffed, and smiled. "Same here."

Spock let his hand fall gently back onto the bed by his side. He closed his eyes slowly.

"Spock, don't…" I said eagerly.

He opened one eye. "I'm not finished with my farewell, Captain."

Of all the times he could have gotten a since of humor, it had to be on his death bed. Of course. It was only logical.

"Continue."

"Jim, I don't want you to grieve. I want no emotional response from my passing." Spock breathed.

"Spock, you're not going to die." I protested.

"Then why are you shedding tears, Captain?" Spock raised an eyebrow.

I sighed. He had a point.

"Captain, don't grieve. There will be other Science Officers, other Commanders. Other friends, other Vulcans."

"But none as great as you, Spock."

"That is not the point, Captain. Don't grieve. Just…remember me."

The tears came again, along with the silent sobbing. I wasn't about to stop it. He was my best friend, my second in command. He wasn't going to die without a tear being shed. I could see the tension in Spock's face relax as he exhaled deeply. I waited for him to inhale again.

He never did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: The Original Series, or any of its characters, locations, ect…**

Author's Note: _Here's the second chapter for those of you who have my story on Story Alert. I would love it if I could get some feedback…it's hard to write when no one's there to help, you know! Anyways, I hope you enjoy the second chapter._

How long I sat there, I don't know. A nurse came to take Spock away. Bones cleaned the bio-bed. One by one, the patients whose injuries weren't serious left Sick Bay to return to their duties. Time seemed to pass with little meaning to me. Even though the lights in Sick Bay were blinding, everything seemed to be dim, dark. There was very little noise now; just the constant _swish_ of the doors as people left Sick Bay, the slight beeping of tricorders and monitors, the low mumbles of doctors and nurses as they made diagnosis and treated them. In the back of my head, a voice was screaming at me. "Jim, snap out of it and get to the Bridge. People need you. They don't have a second in command anymore." I ignored the voice, knowing that it couldn't possibly be real. It was Spock's voice.

Finally, the lights in Sick Bay dimmed, and everything became very, very quiet. I looked up to find Dr. McCoy staring at me, his blue eyes filled with sorrow, sympathy, and…regret?

"Jim, you've been sitting there for nearly five hours. I don't think Sick Bay is the best place for you to be right now. Why don't you go to your quarters to get some rest. It's been a long, hard day."

I shook my head, and stood up, stiff from sitting for so long. "No, no. I'm needed on the Bridge. Sulu was left in command; he can only hold out for so long." I argued, forcing myself to take responsibility.

Of course, McCoy disagreed with me, as always. "Jim, you need the rest. You've just lost your best friend, your Commander. Is that not clicking in that brain of yours?" He was getting angry now. "God, Jim, he was your friend. Show a little respect, will you?"

That was it. How dare he think that I wasn't aware of Spock's death? If anyone was aware, it was me. I didn't have time to just curl up in a ball and die like I wanted to. I didn't have the time to go sleep for 12 hours like I needed to. No, I had a ship to run, a crew to command. I had to keep moving.

"That's enough, Doctor." I said as calmly as I could. "Everyone grieves in their own way."

He nodded his head, as if understanding my predicament. I walked out of Sick Bay, suddenly hating the atmosphere that I had created in there. I wandered the halls, meaning to go to the Bridge. I turned around a corner, and froze.

I was at Spock's quarters.

That was the last place I wanted to be. I didn't need reminders that my friend had died; I remembered that clearly enough. I remembered _him_, his face, his personality, his logic. It seemed like it had been years instead of hours ago that Spock died.

Would time go this slowly for the rest of my life? Would I have to live, feeling like hours went by when it was only minutes?

I rang the bell mindlessly. Of course, no one was going to answer. I entered, attempting to leave my unanswered questions in the hall. Spock's quarters were neat and tidy as usual, smelling lightly of incense. To most humans, Vulcans had horrible taste in interior designing; but not to me. I personally was fond of the warm, comfortable tones that decorated Spock's personal space. His meditation lamp was sitting on the table. A book was on the stand beside his bed. It was warm and cozy- just how my house would be if I had one.

I snapped out of whatever trance I was in; I was suddenly very aware that I needed to be on the Bridge. I darted out of Spock's quarters, picked up my unanswered questions in the hall, and ran for the Bridge.

I stepped out of the turbo lift, and onto the Bridge. Silence. Everyone turned to look at me. I must have looked horrible; my face felt stiff after it had been set in the same position for so long, and my hair was tousled. I wondered if everyone had heard the news about Spock. From the look of things, they had, but it looked like they had only known for just a short while. Hadn't we all?

Uhura's hand flew to her mouth, attempting to muffle her sobs. Chekov turned, and started to pay a little too much attention to the view screen. Sulu's back straightened, his whole body becoming very tense. Scotty walked over to put his arm around Uhura. I realized that everyone had their own way of mourning; Chekov focused on one thing intently, Uhura cried, Scotty grieved by helping others, and Sulu became like some sort of robot, some android.

How did I grieve? Did I have my own special way to grieve? I didn't really know. But I couldn't worry about that now; I had a crew who needed me, a crew who needed me more than I needed myself at the moment.

"Spock was a fine Vulcan; a fine man. He wouldn't have wanted us to grieve for him. He said to just remember, just remember him." I said calmly, while making my way to my chair.

"Aye," Scotty said in a shaky voice. "He'll be hard to forget."


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Here's chapter three of what is possibly the worst story I've ever written. It's not at all good, but I'm posting it just because I'd be uber mad if I wrote all of this and then never had anyone else read it. So, here you go! Read and review, as always. (And don't be afraid to tell me it stinks,)_

The days went by in a blur. It seemed like there were no actual _emotions_ in time anymore; all that existed was duty. Spock's memorial service came and went. I remember it perfectly, even though I was in a half conscious state. Uhura sobbing, Scotty with his arms around her, Sulu and Chekov sitting dazed in their seats. Nurse Chapel clinging to the arm of Dr. McCoy, also sobbing, T'Pring sitting gracefully with a group of Vulcans and Amanda, all mourning over the death of Spock…

And then there was me.

Looking back, I realize that I had acted like such a fool at that service. I should have taken the time to mourn, to actually _grieve_ for Spock. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. I was the Captain; and Captain's shouldn't sob. I was asked to make a short speech about Spock and his call of duty. I was asked to do it from a friend's point of view; but I spoke as his Captain, not his friend.

"Spock was a good First Officer. Him and I had served together for many years, and I am honored to have had the chance to serve with him. He never was the emotional type," I said, trying to grin at the Vulcan side of the group, "but he always showed how much he loved his work through his actions."

I hadn't even cried at that service; and I'm ashamed. Bones would yell at me, telling me to grab a hold of myself. He said I was slipping further and further away.

"Bones, are you afraid for me?"

"God, Jim. I'm afraid for your _sanity_. You haven't allowed yourself to grieve. It's just going to build up, and you're eventually going to break. It's not going to be pretty, Jim." Bones had explained to me. Deep down, I knew he was right; things were going to get ugly if I didn't do something. But I always comforted myself with Spock's last words.

'_Remember me.'_

I had convinced myself that, by refusing to grieve for Spock, I was remembering him. I was living out his last request; and I was doing it better than any other person.

I sighed, and rested my head on my pillow. I was still in uniform; in fact, I rarely got out of my uniform, unless to take a shower. I didn't want to sleep. I knew that, if I did, I would just have nightmares. They were always the same – Spock's thin form lying on that bio bed, confessing his last words to me, me standing there, hot tears streaming down my face. It was always the same, and it was always things that I didn't _want_ to remember.

The bell rang. Someone was here to see me. I sighed again, and walked over to the door, pressing the button that allowed it to open.

"Captain," Uhura said. "May I come in?"

I ran my fingers quickly through my hair, and motioned her in. I wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone right now; _especially_ women who tended to cry all of the time.

"Can I help you with something?" I asked as politely as I could as I sat back down on my bed. Uhura walked over and sat beside me, throwing her arms around my neck.

"Captain, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Captain!" She sobbed.

I sat there, refusing to allow myself to throw my arms around her, and sob as well. I just sat there, and listened.

"I should have come to see you earlier; I shouldn't have let you sit here this long all by yourself. I shouldn't have left you at the memorial when Scotty took me home. I should have stayed and made sure that you were alright."

"I…I am alright."

Apparently, she didn't agree. "No, you're _not_ alright, Captain. You're not alright at all.' She put her hands on my shoulders, and pulled away from me so that she could see my face. "You haven't shed a single tear since Spock died. You haven't taken time off to mourn, and you haven't been sociable. You've just been keeping to yourself."

I reached my hand towards her face, and wiped away her tears with my thumbs. "Uhura, listen to me. I'm fine. I've grieved," I lied. "I've grieved, and I've let him go." Another lie. I knew that Uhura didn't believe me. Her facial expression told me that much. However, she stood up from the bed, and walked towards the door.

"Sure you are…" she mumbled, and then left, leaving me alone to judge myself on the conduct I just displayed. Uhura was trying to help; the least I could have done was shed a few tears. I had a fine crew who obviously cared for how I felt, and I wasn't taking that into account.

My crew was trying to help me, and I was lying to them. Some Captain I was.


End file.
